


Chivalry

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-24
Updated: 2004-06-24
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Flirtation after 'Metamorphosis'





	Chivalry

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Clark Kent spent his time on the streets of Metropolis swathed in a combination of joy and terror. He couldn't help but respond to the energy of the hive of people buzzing about him, while simultaneously being nervous of the wealth of possibility represented by those same beings. At any moment, one might whip out a knife and try to stab him. Or maybe someone would grab his hand and try to tell his future. Or criminals would erupt from one of these fashionable boutiques and he'd be forced to 'do something'. Limitless possibility, limitless risk. He tilted his head up and focused on the patches of blue sky and golden light visible through the fringe of skyscrapers. His country-bred inclination to make eye contact was giving him a constant dizzy feeling. The exciting and nerve-wracking elements of the cityscape were subtly enhanced by the man who walked beside him, drawing everyone's eyes.

 

Lex was relaxed and easy. He strode the busy sidewalk with his arms loose and open as if daring the world to engage him. Once or twice, Clark could have sworn that Lex (under cover of brushing past someone) had broken into a shuffling dance step. Lex's buoyancy made Clark grin. Only Clark knew that Lex was high on the drug called dismailuthorsenioradine. Street name: 'screwing Lionel'. Lionel's earlier absence hadn't even been commented on, a fact which would have surely infuriated him. 

 

Lex's press conference regarding the public parks he was establishing in Metropolis and Smallville had gone swimmingly. Watching Lex field questions was like watching his mom shoe a horse; it was a pleasure, thought Clark, watching people do the things they did well. The press had seemed quite willing to be charmed and delighted by such a charismatic young man. Clark was ostensibly covering it for the Torch, but had spent most of the half-hour grinning at Lex like an idiot. Until that predatory woman from the Inquisitor had surreptitiously groped him, then Clark had spent a good five minutes looking for a spot to be unobtrusive and failing miserably. 

 

After wading through interminable handshakes, Lex had suggested lunch and then walked out of the glittering behemoth that was Luthorcorp as if he'd never driven a car in his life. Clark had almost gaped in astonishment and had to lope to catch up. He thought about asking, but it occurred to him that if Lex wanted to brave the noonday crowds of Metropolis, he probably had his reasons. Plus it was pleasant after they fell into a rhythm of walking.

 

"So how'd it go?"

 

"How did what go?" 

 

"Giving Lana back her necklace? Did she swoon with gratitude? Did she vow to never see that inarticulate jock again?"

 

"Ah, well, not exactly." Clark was glad that the constant stream of foot traffic made it nearly impossible to maintain eye contact with Lex. 

 

Lex made a "please continue" little hand twirl.

 

"Well, I kind of left it for her to find." Off Lex's incredulous glance, Clark went on quickly, "If she wants to be with me, I want it to be her decision. I don't want her to feel like I manipulated her at all."

 

Lex sighed, "Telling her the truth is not manipulating her, Clark. Handing her the necklace would have given your stock a boost. Don't you want to...rise in Lana's estimation?" 

 

"Sure I do. But not at Whitney's expense." Clark said on autopilot while pondering what would make him rise in Lex's estimation.

 

"Why not?" Lex was vehement. "He's shown his true colors and if Lana can't see it, why can't you tell her, if it's nothing but the truth?" 

 

"I dunno," Clark shrugged. His reasons seemed even more flimsy in the light of Lex's regard. "Seemed kind of...uhmmm, unchivalrous?"

 

"Why does it not surprise me that you'd have a word like that on tap?" Lex made a heraldic gesture. "Clark Kent, the flower of chivalry!" Startled passerby quickly darted aside.

 

Clark grinned and ducked his head. "Hey, my English teacher would be proud. But the 'Flower of Chivalry' gig's already been taken. By that guy, ah, you know..."

 

"William Marshal," Lex's voice was neutral but the look he turned on Clark was both warm and appraising. "Sounds like your history teacher should also be proud. That's kind of arcane stuff." 

 

Clark felt a small shiver of pleasure. When he threw a conversational ball, Lex never failed to catch it. "I'm writing a paper about codes of behavior and how they change and stay the same. You know, starting from that 'eye for an eye' stuff."

 

"I think my father has the code of Hammurabi buried somewhere in our corporate charter," Lex mused. "Not everyone leads such a charmed life, Clark." 

 

They entered an uptown restaurant with a name that appeared to be all vowels. Clark suddenly felt very clumsy, surrounded by the crystal laden tables and fussy linens. Lex and the maitre'd appeared to be able to communicate solely with raised eyebrows. They were silently ushered to a round table that managed to be both secluded and exalted.

 

"What do you mean, not everyone leads a charmed life? Isn't that kind of obvious?" Clark asked once they got settled. After one glance at the menu and one glance at Lex, Clark put the little book down mumbling, "Guess I'll let you order."

 

Lex gestured the waiter over peremptorily and quickly summoned enough food to satisfy a major league sports team.

 

The food arrived with stunning speed and Clark was glad he'd asked the open-ended question early because it gave him plenty of time to chow down while Lex was talking. Chloe's coaching on the interview skills had really been invaluable.

 

"William Marshal was supposed to be one of the greatest knights that ever lived," Lex examined the speared scallop on his fork as if it were going to venture an opinion. "But his life was almost over before it began."

 

"I hadn't read about that part," Clark leaned in, "What happened to him?"

 

"Well, even a century after the Norman invasion, Britain was pretty divided and factional. Are you familiar with the medieval practice of giving hostages? Sending your sons or daughters to ensure that someone keeps a promise, keeps their peace? Sort of a living token of good faith?"

 

"Yeah, I guess," Clark shrugged. "They treated them well, right? Not like nowadays..."

 

"A lot of things have changed since 1136, farm boy. Or hadn't you noticed?" Lex asked sweetly.

 

"Are you going to tell the story or what?" Clark gave Lex his best dangerous look.

 

Lex continued with a smirk, "Well, King Stephen wanted to make sure that John Marshal, who was a powerful knight in his own right, sided with him against the other heir to the throne, Matilda. So Stephen demanded one of Marshal's sons to be fostered with him. John sent William, his fourth son. Later John broke the siege of Newbury and sided with Matilda. When Stephen's other lieutenants yelled over the battlements that they would hang his son, supposedly John Marshal told them to go ahead and said, 'I have both the hammer and the anvil to forge another, even finer.'"

 

"But..." Clark played with his fork. "Obviously the guy, the king, didn't kill him."

 

"Not good politics or very chivalrous to go around killing eight year olds, no matter what their fathers have done. Besides, I assume his sympathy was aroused when he realized what a prick John Marshal was." 

 

Clark laughed. "Whoa, that's hard-core. They didn't put that in any of the books I read."

 

"Yeah, they like to make history as boring as possible. But I collect stories of sons sacrificed on the altars of their fathers' ego." Lex bared his teeth. "Gives me a sense of precedent. The Bible has lots of good ones."

 

"Boy, that's like..." Clark paused and Lex leaned forward, anticipating. "...years of therapy, right in one sentence."

 

Lex grinned, sincerely this time and pointed at Clark with his fork. "You know, I can see it now: Clark Kent in shining armor, rescuing damsels in distress. But you're a modern knight, ecumenical, egalitarian..."

 

"Le-ex," Clark did aggrieved exasperation just to show he could. "Making fun of me is kind of pointless if I can't understand what you're talking about."

 

"I'm not making fun of you, Clark," Was it his imagination that told him that Lex never used this tone of voice with anyone else? "I'm just grateful that you don't just rescue damsels." Lex's eyes were so warm and ...inviting? Then he leaned back and the moment fled, "Both me and the quarterback, I mean."

 

"You'd have done just the same if you were me," Clark knew he was mumbling and had his 'aw, shucks' face on...but it had worked before and hopefully it would bore Lex and keep him from pursuing the subject. He tapped his fork on his empty plate. "I was just in the right place at the wrong time, like William Marshal, I guess." 

 

"What most people don't realize about history is that it's not all big sweeping events. Big events sometimes rest on the weight of the decisions of very average people. William Marshal probably didn't realize how close he came to losing his life because of his dad's politics until years later. By that time, maybe he understood. Maybe Matilda was worth a boy's life." Lex paused for a long moment. 

 

"He was the fourth son, you know. Not going to inherit, just sort of a back-up plan. But it's his name in the history books. I like to think that he took his second chance and ran with it." Lex's eyes were still warm but there was sadness underneath now. "Virtue is only virtue when it's tested," he finished almost under his breath.

 

"I've just got one more question, Lex."

 

"Well, you'd better make it a good one then, Clark," Lex teased but still seemed slightly tense.

 

"Are you going to eat that?"

 

Lex snorted, passed him his plate and raised a finger for the check. The warm air back on the street seemed full of promises.

 

"Shouldn't you be getting back?" Clark had to wonder if it were merely an effort to seem mature or some masochistic instinct for sabotaging his own good time that led him to be the voice of reason. Lex looked kind of blank, as if the notion of returning to work had never even occurred to him. Lex stuffed his hands into his sleek coat and looked at Clark as if he were some problem that Lex was determined to solve. 

 

"Don't think I will," Lex drawled and quirked his lip. "I've got time and the company is good. Unless you've got to be somewhere..." 

 

"Guess I can reschedule," Clark did his best put-upon sigh. "What did you have in mind?"

 

Lex was already halfway across the street. He turned back to shout "Window shopping!" 

 

Clark scanned the street for potential threats and then crossed with only the barest hint of enhanced speed.

 

Lex was being drawn to a large glass expanse like he was magnetized. He stood before the wide window with his nose practically pressed to the glass. What in the world could get Lex so excited that he'd shift his weight from foot to foot, discard his cool? Clark had a brief moment to envy the as-yet-unseen items. Ah, cars, of course. Italian sports cars, buffed to an almost obscene gloss. The one that commanded Lex's unalloyed enthusiasm was an almost painful cherry red.

 

"I think I'm in love," breathed Lex "It looks like a space ship."

 

"No, it doesn't," said Clark and then winced.

 

Lex turned and cocked his head. "So you subscribe to the spinning saucer school of space travel? Not very imaginative, I must say." 

 

"I call 'em like I see 'em," Clark covered with provincial innocence. "It looks like a Lamborghini..." Mercifully the name came to him. "Countach...though I bet it could fly, with enough speed and some baling wire."

 

Lex threw back his head and laughed unreservedly. Then he was suddenly serious. "Do you always call 'em like you see 'em, Clark? Sometimes, I get the feeling you can see right through me." Lex smiled at Clark's befuddlement, tapped a little tattoo on the glass and then whipped out his cell phone.

 

"Who are you calling?" Clark was suddenly desperate to deflect the sharp edges of Lex's keen mind, to get that speculative look off his face.

 

"My bank," Lex grinned wolfishly. "Every good knight needs a worthy steed." And he swung open the door with a flourish.

 

 

 

 

Here endeth the lesson.


End file.
